tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39621902967717522372024-03-05T07:28:04.049-06:00searching for oneLeaving the flock in order to find the one...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-34911837446879263322020-05-26T21:47:00.001-05:002023-05-26T09:01:53.864-05:00Remember me...<br /><div>
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Growing up, I remember how important "Decoration Day" was to my parents and extended family. We would travel to places and parts unknown to lay flowers upon the graves of those I'd never met, or barely remembered. Saddles were made to grace the top of monuments and smaller bouquets were fashioned that would sit in the vases that adorned the bases. While I was amazed at the variety of gravestones, the ages of so many children who had died, and the tingling soul tug that came from seeing my last name on a random relatives final resting place, I never quite understood the purpose of honoring the dead in that way. </div>
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People tend to judge you when you are <i>that person</i>. The one who never visits. The one who doesn't take the time to decorate the graves of loved ones. The one who doesn't feel the need to sit down and absorb the non-existent essence of the dead body below them. </div>
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In my mind, it's just a wrapper. Nothing more.</div>
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In a small cemetery in little-known Whitehall, In. lie the graves of my father, my brother and my mother, which were dug in that order. Within those graves is the dirty laundry their lives left behind. Not my father, my brother, or my mother...just their earth suits that housed their souls. Each one lies in a box within a box, tucked deep in the ground, covered with dirt and marked with a stone. But there's no treasure there.</div>
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Those I love and adore have no eternal connection to that tomb. What is lying far beneath the neatly trimmed grass is not what I loved. Those I loved are far above me, not stowed beneath me. They reside in a heavenly place of honor and glory with which I cannot begin to compete. They walk among the saints, they do not lay among the ruins and rot. They move about in a heavenly body, perfect, without pain, or disease or lack. </div>
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My Decoration Day is planting seeds of remembrance in the minds of my children. My Memorial Day is recalling incredible stories that paint a picture that is so real, so visual, that my offspring all feel as if they were there, and that they know those of whom I speak; know them as if they had met them in the flesh. Flowers on a grave cannot relay the love my father showed me. It can't reveal the struggles my mother endured as a child. a teenager, and an adult-or her ability to keep going in the midst of her all her trials. It doesn't show that her love of, and faith in, God was the only thing that got her through. Ornamentation doesn't allow them to hear the laughter of my Granddaddy, or taste the peach pie my Nanny made from the peaches that grew on her trees....the same trees I got in trouble for climbing. They can only experience the uniqueness of my Great Aunt Evie through the stories of bootlegging, shotguns, and "just when you least expect it" whoopings that she gave my daddy for a 6 month old infraction. </div>
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When I share with them the times I sat under my Godparents' table and listened to my daddy and his friends tell tall tales, cuss, drink coffee and smoke unfiltered cigarettes... I want them to hear the booming laughter. I want them to smell the smoke, the coffee, the leather of their boots and the earth and concrete that dusted their soles. I want them to see that tiny little girl scoot covertly away from the "ladies" and slide right into where the action was. To close their eyes and see the congress of storytellers and realize that remembering is more than a flower. It's planting seeds that will root and grow into wonderful stories and memories that will keep those we love alive forever.</div>
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deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-26525079653123993892017-08-10T18:35:00.000-05:002017-08-10T18:35:46.971-05:00<br />
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One day, while watching my 2 year old granddaughter, she jumps up on my lap, grabs my face, peers determinedly into my eyes and says, "Nan. Let's eat food!" I said, "What food?" She smiles, "Peetzee!"<br />
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Pizza it is.<br />
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While we were awaiting our "peetzee", three construction worker-looking men walked in. Of course, when you're two and too cute, you draw attention.<br />
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"You're a cutie aren't you?"<br />
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She nodded, "Yep!"<br />
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No guile, no false modesty. Just, "Yep!"<br />
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Oh that we would all be so simple in our communication with others. How much simpler would life be if we just all spoke clearly, meaningfully and without pretense? If we listened and responded without ego or too-tender feelings. If we could just accept the fact that we can't make everyone happy, not everyone will love you and that's perfectly ok. If we could just say, 'Yep" when we are paid a compliment, or even when we're told, "I don't want you in my life anymore."<br />
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The norm is to read things into a conversation, try to persuade or dissuade another, or simply refuse to accept what is said by telling oneself "They didn't mean it." when they really did.<br />
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Two year olds don't always make good decisions, but they are great conversationalist. Literal, concise, and the only misunderstandings come from their Dutchy speech and not their desire to manipulate.<br />
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So, from now on, I'm taking my cues from her. I will announce what I need, and from whom, I will not take things personally when the problem is not mine to own, I will accept that I'm not loved by all, and that's ok. Because, a toddler calls me Nan; she breaths my name out reverently when I pick her up from daycare. She also sneaks up on me in the kitchen and giggles, "Hey setsy mama!"<br />
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And it must be true....because two year olds never lie!<br />
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<br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-83398487578156587762017-08-10T17:21:00.003-05:002017-08-10T18:33:15.493-05:00There you are....<br />
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The day we laid you to rest I thought I'd never see you again. Well, not until my own day of rest came.<br />
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But I was wrong.<br />
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I saw you just now; there, in the mirror. I saw you in the features that have become more and more like yours. I saw you in the silver highlights that I usually keep covered, but have now become prominent through my own neglect.<br />
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I hear you when I greet my children...those you help me raise and those you never met. "Hi, baby!" I say, and I hear your voice coming through.<br />
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I feel you every time I offer a warm and loving hug to someone who just needs to know someone cares.<br />
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I hear you in the sternness of my rebuke, in the warmth of my comfort, and in the logic of my counsel.<br />
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I feel you when a small child falls asleep on my lap, or comes to me in need of mending.<br />
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And when life gets hard and I want to quit, I hear your voice and see that face...yes, THAT face. The one you left me. The one that takes no nonsense. The one that says, "You can't quit now."<br />
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Yes, I still see you. In my daughters, in my grandchildren, and in those quiet moments when I look intently at myself.<br />
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And I smile....because seeing you there helps me not miss you quite so much.<br />
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<br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-38185115493157226052016-11-03T09:50:00.000-05:002017-04-14T06:45:55.003-05:00Two Stories<div class="reg" style="background-color: #fdfeff; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">
<span class="red"><i>Matthew 6:22-24 </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="red"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">22 </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.</span></span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> </span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11px;"><b>23 </b></span></span><span class="red" style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!</span></i></div>
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<span class="red"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11px;"><b>24 </b></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span class="red"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Everyone has two stories. One story is told by the victor, the other by the victim. One is a story of triumph, the other of tragedy. One allows the grace and mercy of God to shine through, while the other affords the enemy all the glory and negates God's power and authority.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">The bible tells us that if our eyes are healthy, then our body will be healthy. How we see things directly affects the outcome of our lives. If we see with an unhealthy eye, if we have an unhealthy outlook on our lives, then our lives will be filled with darkness. The night doesn't stop being night just because you shine a light on it. The day doesn't stop becoming day because we close the curtains and lock the doors and go to bed. We alter our vision in the midst of both of those environments in order to meet whatever need we have at the time. Shining a light into the night doesn't make it day, but it does allow us to see more clearly in the darkness. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"> It's hard to believe that some people would rather live in darkness, but, sadly, that is the truth. They would rather focus on what they have lost, than what they have left. In doing so, they allow the darkness to grow and become evermore pervasive in their lives. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">They, in essence, bring about their own calamity by only seeing the negative. Their victim mentality effectively ruins their lives. Their pain, suffering and sense of loss becomes their only identifiers. Their speech becomes the weapon they wield, but the wounds they cause are all self-inflicted. They not only welcome the darkness, they block out any light that attempts to get through. Darkness, anger, resentment and self-loathing become the coverings by which they gain their identity. Much like the beggar's clothes of old.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">It is your choice which story you tell, where you live, what your eye beholds. Not fate, or God, or anyone else. Yours. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Everyone has a story to tell. One is told by the victor, the other by the victim. The one most told is the one that continues on...</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Ephesians 5:8</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></h1>
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<i><b><span class="text Eph-5-8" id="en-NIV-29313" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">8</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">For you were once<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29313A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29313A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light...<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29313B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29313B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></b></i></div>
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deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-76056639054235448992015-11-20T19:36:00.001-06:002015-11-20T19:41:44.190-06:00Hunger<br />
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"<em>For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in</em>..."--Matthew 25:35<span class="p"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="p"></span><br />
<span class="p"> In the summer of 1983, somewhere on the IU campus, I listened intently as a woman spoke a phrase that would be forever burned into my memory...</span><br />
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<span class="p"> "People aren't just hungry at Thanksgiving and Christmas." She then proceeded to challenge us to set up a program of continued assistance in our communities.</span><br />
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<span class="p"> Each year, her words come back to convict me...</span><br />
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<span class="p"> Red Kettles and Angel Trees tug at our charitable hearts. Churches and other organizations begin to search for families in need. Wallets open more freely and people began to give, treating that feeling of satisfaction like a hit of an opiate. It just makes you feel good...and, let's face it, in some cases it makes you look good, too. </span><br />
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<span class="p"> But have you ever thought about what happens in June? What happens when parents who qualify for free breakfast and lunch at school, but not an EBT card, have to start feeding kids 3 meals a day instead of one. Where does the money come from to buy shorts and T-shirts when that winter coat is no longer necessary. Who buys the sandals that replaces the boots. Who buys the $15.00 window fan when the temperature reaches 90°? Who pays for the ball sign-up, or the 3 day bracelets at festival time? </span><br />
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<span class="p"> Who thinks about the other 10 months of the year? </span><br />
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<span class="p"> While I do think it is commendable that the holidays bring about good will toward men, women and children, I also think that we should all endeavor to do something the other months of the year. One person can't do everything, but everyone can do something. Feed someone, clothe someone, help someone....make it personal. Ask you kids or grandkids if they have a friend whose parents can't afford something that most take for granted. Sponsor a ball player, or a dancer, or a cheerleader. Offer free weekend babysitting to that young mother who still feels that working is setting the best example for her children.</span><br />
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<span class="p">January-October are not magical months in which all needs are met, and we should not close our eyes for 10 months while patting ourselves on the back for two. </span><br />
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<span class="p">God expects better from us...</span><br />
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<span class="p"></span><br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-72247977952094518712015-08-03T09:13:00.000-05:002015-08-03T09:13:28.806-05:00Vacancy<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>1 Samuel 16:1 <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>The LORD said to
Samuel, "How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as
king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way; I am sending you
to Jesse of Bethlehem. I have chosen one of his sons to be king."<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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One of my favorite witticisms is, “Where biology fails, God
prevails!” Some of us are lucky enough to have wonderful grandparents, parents
and siblings. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Others….not so much.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In my ministry, as well as in my personal life, I have seen
the consequences of abuse, neglect, abandonment and rejection. I have seen
mothers chose men over their children, fathers walk away from responsibility, and children blame their parents for their own mistakes. I've seen partners who leave without a second thought to the pain they are causing those they leave behind. I
have also seen the internal struggle that rages inside those who search themselves
for some shortcoming or defect. The one that makes
them unlovable to those who should love them the most.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let me tell you, it isn’t pretty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There is a place in the heart that cries out for a love that
should be freely given, but is withheld. There is a place in the psyche that
tries to create logic from an illogical situation, but fails. And there is a place in the soul
that mourns the loss of connection, the loss of affection; the place where
self-blame lies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But why do we mourn? Why do we mourn when God so clearly
says, “I have chosen someone else for that position. How long will you mourn
what is lost, and ignore what I have ordained to replace it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I believe that biological connections are important. I
believe knowing from whence you came sheds light on things like genetic
predispositions, appearances, quirks and predilections. But it does not
necessarily define who your family is. Those you define as family should be
those who love you, believe in you and support your dreams. They should be
those who meet your need with their ability without condition or resentment. Those
who are not only willing to be there for you in your time of need, but do so
with a heart that is grateful for the opportunity, expecting nothing in return.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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In this passage, God is telling Samuel to let Saul go, stop
mourning the loss of him and move on to the person He had chosen to fill the
position of King of Israel. God didn’t want Samuel to keep holding on to
something that he had already cut loose!<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, today I ask you… how long will you mourn? <o:p></o:p></div>
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And when will you accept the person into your life that God
has chosen to fill in the blank…<o:p></o:p></div>
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deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-4013040205127873342015-05-08T12:17:00.002-05:002015-05-08T12:17:51.228-05:00One of Many First...After 48 Mother's Days spent together, this Mother's Day will be the first without my Mama. Her passing was bittersweet, I suppose. She was ready, we were not. Her gain became our loss, her healing became our injury.<br />
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Her triumph became our tragedy...<br />
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In honor of her, I would like to impart just a smidgen of her wisdom.<br />
<br />
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<b>Act like you got some sense.</b><br />
(This was a precursor to, "I'm fixin' to jerk you up and have a chill with you!")<br />
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<b>Realize, the only thing worse than a drunken man is a drunken woman.</b><br />
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<b>Don't go anywhere you can't take your kids, and you won't be anywhere you don't need to be.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> When you lose a good reputation, it's hard to get it back.</b><br />
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<b>Children eat first.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Know that you can make it without a man, because no matter what his intentions...life changes.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Being called a little idiot isn't always a bad thing, depending on the situation.</b><br />
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<b>A good mother will kill or die for her children, and face any danger without batting an eye. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> God will carry you through if you let Him. </b><br />
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<b>Don't ask God, "Why me?" Ask yourself, "Why not me?"</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> You can help some people so much they forget how to help themselves.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Quit yelling at your kids. It doesn't help.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> You may have to get a second job.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Make sure the dog's got plenty water.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Getcha something to eat.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Make your bed in the morning. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Throw in a load of laundry before you go to work.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Put a little money back.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Pay your bills early. </b><br />
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<b> Act like a lady, you'll be treated like a lady. (works in reverse, too.)</b><br />
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<b> And for God's sake, you little idiot, brush that nasty hair, you look like the Bell Witch!</b><br />
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<b>Dorothy Lee Lyle</b><br />
<b>9-2-1932</b><br />
<b>5-3-2015</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-12776567256902195022013-07-31T14:28:00.003-05:002013-07-31T14:46:03.095-05:00Insight and Ignorance
Today I held a precious grandchild of mine while she cried tears of frustration and anger over a comment made by a judge. The judge informed her the man she refers to as "Daddy" is not, nor will ever be, her "real dad". In the judge's opinion, the man who ended up in jail with multiple counts of criminal activity, who was abusive and manipulative, and who has earned nothing but loathing from this child, is her "real dad".
I think the judge needs educated.
Real dads discipline in love, they don't punish in anger. Real dads put themselves last, not first. Real dads protect, not destroy. Real dads don't hurt you until you cry, they hurt those who make you cry.
Real dads spend summers leaning over the fence at the baseball field and go camping on rainy weekends in order to keep a promise. They pull their hair out over math homework and teach you how to change a tire. They stare down young men and set a good example of what their daughters should expect from their future husbands. They allow them to grow, while keeping their environment safe and stable. They give them away in marriage....but not completely.
There are many "real dads" in my family that would not fit this woman's definition. Fathers through legal adoption, dads through inheritance by marriage, and dads who chose to remain dads even after divorce gave them a way out.
Dads in my circle are dads forever. Not just when the law says they are, and not just to those who share their DNA.
Sperm makes you a sperm donor. Your actions make you a father.
Your Honor,since you don't seem to have any idea what the definition of real is, I'm posting the definition for you...just so you'll know.
<b> <i>Real</i>: of or relating to fixed, permanent, or immovable things
: not artificial, fraudulent, or illusory :
<i></i></b>
Real fathers are fixed, permanent and immovable. They are genuine, honest and <i>real
</i> And, just so you know, this young lady doesn't carry my genes, either. I inherited her and her brother a couple years ago. But I am as real to her as the sun in the sky, the grass under her feet, and the man who tucks her in at night.
The man she calls her real dad.deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-40309801136783757912013-06-11T06:56:00.001-05:002013-06-11T17:35:30.261-05:00Hard LessonsDear child, <br />
In case no one has ever told you, you are not indestructible.<br />
<br />
You are not immortal. <br />
<br />
You are not immune to the laws of nature, nor the acts of evil men. You <em>can</em> be harmed. You <em>can</em> live a life trapped in a body so badly broken that you no longer have the ability to toilet yourself, feed yourself or dress yourself. <br />
<br />
You <em>can</em> die...<br />
<br />
Putting yourself in the car with a drunk (even if that drunk is you) is the same as stepping into a lions den. Whose fault will it be when you get devoured? Who will pay the price for your poor choice. Your mother? Your father? The others standing over your casket weeping until they are exhausted from the pain?<br />
<br />
Walking the streets in the middle of the night, especially under the influence of drugs or alcohol, is playing Russian Roulette. Nocturnal predators are not just 4-legged. Many are two-legged and four-wheeled. Whether they stalk their prey by moonlight, starlight or street light, they are still deadly. You can only hope that death is swift and that your captor doesn't enjoy playing with his prey before he makes the kill. <br />
<br />
You can smirk, mock, cry and argue all you want to, but try defending your actions to those who have suffered from the same. Tell the boy lying in a nursing home with tubes in every orifice. Tell the girl curled up in a vegetative state lying in a hospital bed in what used to be a normal bedroom.<br />
<br />
Tell their parents. <br />
<br />
Tell them it won't happen to you. Tell them you'll be fine. Tell them you're different...immortal...untouchable. <br />
<br />
And then tell God, when you meet Him way too soon...<br />
<br />
<br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-41247367213739115502013-01-08T12:08:00.000-06:002013-01-08T12:11:02.679-06:00Deprogramming<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Gen 3:11</strong> <em>And He said, “Who told you that you were naked?</em></div>
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In the 1970's a study was done that pitted college students into adversarial roles; prison guards and inmates.Those assigned as inmates stayed within the confines of their cells, and those appointed guards were allowed to carry on life as usual after their duties each day. The two-week study was aborted after 6 days due to the psychological changes that took place within each participant. The prisoners took on the role of powerless captive, and the guards became aggressive authoritarians lacking compassion. They had allowed their situation to change them, even though it wasn't real.</div>
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As Christians, we need to realize that not only does God exist, so does Satan and his minions. There is evil in the world, and it doesn't come from God.</div>
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<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+10:10&version=NKJV"><strong><span style="color: black;">John 10:10</span></strong></a><br />
<em>The thief does not come except to steal, and to<strong> </strong>kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.</em></div>
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<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians+6:12&version=NKJV"><strong><span style="color: black;">Ephesians 6:12</span></strong></a><br />
<em>For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.</em></div>
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Adam and Eve didn't know they were naked until the devil told them they were. They didn't feel shame until he impressed upon them that they should. What is he telling you, directly and indirectly through the people around you? We all have those people who delight in making us feel less than worthy. People who will cause us, at some point in time, to doubt our self-worth, our morality, our integrity, and even our ability to be loved. We are placed in situations that have the potential to make us believe we <em>are</em> what we are <em>not</em>.</div>
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But, I ask you, who told you that? Was it God? No, God will never tell you that you aren't loved when you are, or place condemnation and shame on you when you have done your best. Those things are not from God. Those things are from Satan himself, and it's the same manipulative tactics he's used for thousands of years. He even used them on Jesus himself...</div>
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However, Jesus never doubted His identity or His purpose. He knew that He was who God said He was, and nothing less. </div>
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And so are you.</div>
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So, the next time you hear, either audibly, or somewhere in your wounded psyche, that you are less than what God says you are, ask yourself, "Who told me that?" </div>
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And never, ever believe a liar...</div>
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deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-37225821281565876832012-06-27T09:59:00.000-05:002012-06-27T10:07:46.690-05:00MaintenanceI've heard them hundreds of times throughout my life. They comes from the lips of fathers, brothers and husbands everywhere. If you're a woman, I know you've heard them too. They are phrases that include, but are not limited to,<br />
<br />
"When's the last time you checked the oil in this thing?"<br />
<br />
"That tire's low, better stop and get some air 'fore it goes flat. Make sure you check the sidewall to see how much to put in it. Don't over-inflate!"<br />
<br />
"What's your antifreeze readin' at? Winter's comin'"<br />
<br />
....and so on and so on.<br />
<br />
They focus on maintenance, upkeep and prevention. After all, a ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, right? (Plus they know, in most cases, they are the ones who have to fix it, or pay to have it fixed.)<br />
<br />
But, sometimes, just maybe, they forget about something just as important. Something they depend on every day. Something they would miss if they woke up one day and it was gone...<br />
<br />
Much like the earth itself, women are viewed by their families as having unlimited resources. They are drawn from on a regular basis, but rarely are they attended to. One would not think of driving one's car endlessly without paying attention to the gas gauge! Let a man smell the slightest hint of "hot" coming from under his hood and he's pulling over to investigate. My own would emphatically state, "This vehicle is not moving one inch further. Call a wrecker." They are very intune to those potential mehanical failures, but often miss the damage they cause their relationships through unrealized neglect. It's not intentional, any more than a teenager running out of gas. <br />
<br />
Still, it doesn't change the outcome. Your car still won't run.<br />
<br />
But your wife might...<br />
<br />
Fellas, it's like this...You either love her, or you don't. You either want her, or you'd rather be without her. But ignoring her and neglecting her should never be acceptable. As women we are <em>born </em>into competition. We feel it from the moment another little girl says, "I'm prettier than you." From that day forward, we continuely compare ourselves to the other women around us. We look to you for validation. We look to you for approval. Many may not admit it, but we need you to say you notice, and appreciate, what we do. We need to know that we have your full attention, if only for a hour. A look, a touch, a soft word. Listen to your wife as closely as you listen to your engine. Be mindful of those subtle changes in her response time, in the sound of her voice. Notice when things might be getting a little over-heated and stop long enough to investigate. If you don't, the whole thing might just blow up in your face...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-57802400438276400392012-06-26T19:13:00.000-05:002012-06-26T19:35:22.902-05:00MalnutritionPsalms 34:8 <strong><em>Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<br />
When my daughter took her (then) boyfriend to meet her grandmother, the first thing she told him was, "She's gonna wanna feed you." Sure enough, Grandma offered up a plethora of choices ranging from pies and puddings to soups and casseroles. Never, ever does anyone leave her house hungry. If you do it's your own dang fault. I dare say that none of us have ever arisen from a table full of food still hungry, unless we were limiting ourselves for a reason.<br />
<br />
My husband often questions the lack of knowledge and understanding many Christians seem to exhibit. "They stand there and say they're in church every Sunday, but their lives are an emotional train wreck. How can they <em>not</em> know how to find peace?"<br />
<br />
It's a little like sitting down, starving, at a table full of food and not eating a bite. <br />
<br />
The bible tells us to "taste" the Lord and see that He is good. Taste is the only sense that is basically voluntary and self-controlled. You can hear things you don't want to hear, feel things you don't want to feel, see things you don't want to see, (just go to the beach!) and smell things you'd rather not smell. (reference the song "Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road.) But rarely do we taste something without our consent. We open up, draw it inside ourselves and experience it's flavor and texture in order to determine if it's "good" or not. <br />
<br />
God is good in so many ways! He has a multitude of flavors and textures to explore. He can fill the emptiness inside you and satisfy the hunger that is eating away at you. He has a table full of blessing spread out before you, just waiting for you to partake of the feast! His bounty is endless, and it's available to you the moment you sit at His table.<br />
<br />
Just remember, if you walk away hungry, it's your own dang fault...<br />
<br />
<br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-30498993431205900182012-05-27T12:44:00.000-05:002012-05-27T12:44:53.475-05:00June 4, 1928-Novemeber 14, 1979 My Pastor has a saying, <br />
<br />
"God will forgive you, but the laws of nature may not." In other words, while God has promised to offer you forgiveness for whatever sin you may have committed, the self-abuse of your body is at the mercy of nature itself...<br />
<br />
...And she is a vicious Mistress.<br />
<br />
As this holiday of remembrance and reflection moves into full swing, I am reminded of the one man who fits this bill more than any.<br />
<br />
My father.<br />
<br />
As a child, my first memories of my father were of a man who seemed very old and very ill. Cardiovascular disease had started it's erosive process, and to my dismay, my father made no attempts to thwart it. If anything, he assisted in his own drawn out demise. The Dr. said "Lose weight." Dad said "I'll eat what I want." The Dr. warned, "If you continue smoking, it's going to kill you." Dad said "A man's gotta die of something." The Dr. said, "Get some exercise!" Dad said "I can't breath now." <br />
<br />
And on and on and on.....<br />
<br />
Slowly, but surely, I could see not only battles being lost, but the war as well. A heart attack here, a stroke there, blood clots cropping up in various limbs. Speech slowing, gait becoming more unsteady, and yet the bad habits continued. <br />
No amount of begging, pleading, or cajoling could stop him from his self-destruction, or from his suicidal tendency. He was more in love with his murderers than he was with anyone in his family. <br />
<br />
I can still recall the moment when the gravity of the situation hit me right between the eyes. My sister was contemplating marriage, and I asked my father if he could give her away without crying. He assured me he could. Then I asked him if he was going to give me away when I married the man of my dreams. He took a drag off is camel stud and shook his head. I teased him by saying "What? You're not going to let me go?" Without looking at me, he simply said "I'll be dead by the time you marry." <br />
<br />
He was an honest man at least.<br />
<br />
My father <em>was </em>dead by the time I married. He was dead before I went to the prom, before I got my license, before I learned how to drive, even before I entered high school. <br />
<br />
Gone. Fini. Dead. <br />
<br />
Today I challenge each one of you to take a long look at yourself, your life, and the decisions you are making that will impact not only your future, but the future of those you love, and those who love you.<br />
<br />
Step back and ask yourself if you want to <em>be </em>a memory, or <em>make</em> one. <br />
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<br />deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-91785242137518602652012-04-01T19:43:00.000-05:002012-04-01T19:43:05.194-05:00two shoes<div class="heading passage-class-0"><h3>Jeremiah 29:11</h3></div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html "><em><strong> For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</strong></em> </div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html "></div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html ">My daughter, Nikki, called me to tell me "a funny" on my granddaughter Maci, who will be 3 in May...</div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html "></div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html ">"I took the girls and bought them some new shoes at Kohl's. For some reason Maci just starting crying and screaming 'My shoes, my shoes!' I couldn't figure out what her issue was. I finally threatened her with putting her shoes back and taking a trip to the bathroom if she didn't stop. So she flipped the box open and said 'Mama, I got <em>two</em> feet, but you only got me <em>one</em> shoe!' That's when I realized she couldn't see the other shoe because it was wrapped up in the tissue paper. I pointed it out and she smiled and said 'ooohhh, it was there the whole time'!"</div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html "></div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html ">Christians often act the same way.<br />
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How many times have we fretted because God hasn't let us see the blessing that is still wrapped up in the box? How many times have we doubted that He has provided for us completely, instead of just partially. How many times have we accused Him of only giving us one shoe?<br />
<br />
As our Father, God will never neglect us, abuse us or short-change us. He is not a God of half-love, half-truths or half-blessings. He is the God of too much, the God of over-abundance. If we will take the time to discover the truth about His goodness and mercy we will realize that His blessings abound, even if we don't see them right away. With patience and faith we will soon discover that it, indeed, was there the whole time...<br />
<br />
</div>deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-68306384165110357822012-03-13T07:19:00.003-05:002012-03-13T15:09:40.382-05:00It's all in the tellin'Throughout my life there have been only a handful of places where I felt truely comfortable. Not just welcomed, but an actual piece to the puzzle, an integral part of the whole. A feeling as if, during it's creation, the creator thought of me. <br />
<br />
One of those places was the farm on which I grew up. The creek that ran through it sang me to peace many times. The killdeer that scurried about brought hours of laughter and enjoyment. The smell that is horse sweat, leather and sweet feed assail me still, when I have the courage to let my memory wander back that far.<br />
<br />
<br />
A few short miles from my own personal heaven was another. It was the home of my Godparents, and my parents' best friends, the Peines. <br />
<br />
As a young girl, I remember visiting their house of an evening with my parents. The ladies would converge in the living room, and the men would sit around the kitchen table and talk dogs, horses, and anything else that came to mind. The room was full of colorful phrases and booming laughter, hot coffee and cigarette smoke...and one small girl, sitting at her father's feet, or occasionally on his knee. This was my entertainment. To me, it was better than Ringling Brothers, the county fair or the school carnival. Attempts to entice me into the living room were ignored. <br />
<br />
The ladies were boring! <br />
The men....well...they had stories to tell. They also had mannerism and habits to which my mother prefer I not be exposed. "Get your feet off the table Tom Peine!" became such a catch phrase in our family, my oldest granddaughter actually asked me one day who he was. Apparently she had put her feet on her Mama's kitchen table, and when swatted for doing so, was admonished in the same way I had been during my own childhood! <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, time takes us all captive. People die, farms are sold, your welcome grows cold...but the memories, oh how the memories remain....<br />
<br />
Long after my father died, I went to visit his best friend on Memorial Day. I chose to do that over putting flowers on the grave that holds his earthly remians.<br />
As we sat on the back porch silently enjoying the sunshine, Tom took a deep breath, squinted out over the field in front of us and said, "I sure do miss your daddy." <br />
<br />
I whispered, "So do I." <br />
<br />
He then began to smile, the smile turning into laughter as he spoke,<br />
<br />
"Did I ever tell you about the time...."deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-3480947416545083872012-03-06T17:15:00.001-06:002012-03-06T17:19:43.459-06:00For the Good of the Child...<strong>1 Samuel 1:26-28</strong><br />
'...<em>and she said to him, “Pardon me, my lord. As surely as you live, I am the woman who stood here beside you praying to the LORD. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-7240"><span style="font-size: x-small;">27</span></sup> I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-7241"><span style="font-size: x-small;">28</span></sup> So now I give him to the LORD. For his whole life he will be given over to the LORD.” And he worshiped the LORD there. </em><br />
<br />
The above words were spoken by Hannah, mother of Samuel. She had a miracle child, and like most mothers, she loved him very deeply. So much in fact, she gave him back to the Lord, because she felt like it was the best thing for him. She did not think of herself, or what she desired. She only had her child's best interests at heart. Samuel became a great prophet in Israel. Something he would not have done if his mother had sought her own will for him.<br />
<br />
I wonder if the parents of children suffering through a divorce ever think of their children's welfare the way Hannah did Samuel's. <br />
In most cases, it seems very doubtful.<br />
<br />
People have often asked me how my ex and I kept things so civil. I tell them it was fairly easy. We both continue to parent our children together, and put their feelings far above our own. Though both of us had obvious faults and failings, loving our daughters wasn't one of them. <br />
Holidays were their choice. Weekends too. <br />
They never asked me "Can I go to dad's" they just said "I'm going to dad's" <br />
He only stopped being my husband, he did<em> not</em> stop being their father. <br />
<br />
Divorce does not give the custodial parent exclusive rights to a child's love and affection. <br />
<br />
Divorce does not give anyone the right to degrade a child's parent. Children don't need to hear negative comments about their mother or father. It's emotionally detrimental, and completely unnecessary!<br />
<br />
Divorce does not give anyone the right to undermine another's relationship with a child.<br />
<br />
And it certainly doesn't make it ok to keep a child from someone they love, and who loves them, just out of spite.<br />
<br />
While I do realize there are situations in which children may not understand the need to be protected from an unstable parent, more often than not, it's simply one parent trying to "one up" the other. This is done when one's hatred for their ex exceeds their love for their child.Their need to destroy the other person becomes so intense, they never notice their son or daughter has become a casualty.<br />
<br />
Damage, pain, fear, emotional torment...sounds suspiciously like abuse...doesn't it?deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-18406013678764527822012-03-02T08:21:00.002-06:002012-03-02T11:07:07.659-06:00All's FairRecently, there have many articles written, many protests staged, and many Facebook posts regarding several hot topics and controversial subjects. I have read entries on gay marriage, abortion, assisted suicide, and, just last night, an article touting infanticide as an "after-birth abortion" that should logically(?) be viewed in the same light.<br />
The people that support these things do so armed with the mindset that what they do in their personal life is no one's business. They claim their decisions have no bearing on anyone else's life. "My life, my body, my choice." <br />
<br />
In the court of morality, our society has insisted that biblical testimony be stricken from the record. Our government maintains that the rights of one's fist end at the tip of another's nose. If that be the case, then I say, let's be fair. <br />
<br />
If a woman has a right to do what she wants with her body, (and the fetus it carries) women <em>and</em> men should have the right to make decisions concerning all body parts, and the use thereof. Legalize prostitution, euthanasia and allow people to auction off their organs. After all, if you want me to have complete control over what I do with my body, that should be all-inclusive. <br />
<br />
To go a step further, what about the fetus's father. Why does he have no rights? If the woman decides to terminate against his wishes, he is denied a child. If she chooses to continue against his wishes, he has a child thrust upon him. That's a bit of a double standard. One can argue that the woman has to <em>have</em> the baby, and I agree that's true. But what if it's the other way around. <em>She</em> has the right to decided she doesn't want a child, but <em>he</em> does not? <br />
<br />
<br />
If no one has the right to say who you marry, then let it be across the board. Although I prefer a heterosexual, monogamous relationship based on biblical standards, I see no reason to limit the alternatives. Let polygamy be a legal and acceptable union. If three women choose to align themselves with one man, and all involved are happy and in agreement, then let them be. If the government has concerns with benefits, let them set a limit and have that amount divided amongst them. It needn't be an issue if handled correctly. <br />
<br />
On the same note, millions of dollars could and would be saved, as well as many an innocent life, if drugs were handled like alcohol. Let's get down where the rubber meets the road. Tobacco and alcohol are just as erosive to human life and existence as anything else. No drug wars, no cartels, fewer law enforcement officials being killed during routine traffic stops. Legalize it, tax it,(after all, money is the <em>real </em>issue here) monitor it, and let natural selection take it's course. If someone's fist is caught too close to another's nose, then jail them. Otherwise, stay out of their life. <br />
<br />
Morality cannot be policed, it cannot be enforced and it cannot be mandated. It can only be encouraged. Each of us has to look into our own hearts and decided for ourselves where we stand. I can only hope I am standing on the correct side..deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-58806454770056276892012-02-19T20:45:00.000-06:002012-02-19T20:45:38.665-06:00owning itI am 46 years old, 5'4" and weigh in, at this moment, at 202. Now, most women would suffer unspeakable tortures before revealing such information. I figure there's no point to hiding , or lying about your age or your weight. <br />
You don't look any younger or any skinnier if you do.<br />
<br />
In 1983 I weighed 113 lbs. It's the least I have ever weighed as an adult. I was 17 years old, and my Drum Major skirt had a 23 inch waist. I still have that skirt, but now it fits around my thigh. <br />
Not that it makes a good garter...<br />
<br />
The truth of the matter is, I have been selfish. I have put the needs of my mouth over the needs of my body. I have put my desire for pleasure over my husband, my children, and my grandchildren. I have burdened my body with fat that affects my heart, my bones, my liver, and every other organ that is trying to purify what I toxify. <br />
Fat people have no right to berate a smoker, or a drug user. The only difference is, our drug is legal and acceptable. <br />
But it's still just as dangerous.<br />
Fact is, I have to step back and own it. I am a fat girl. I have made choices that have brought me here. I have looked in the mirror, seen what I was doing, and chose to ignore it. I have provided for myself the pleasure of the flesh, and in doing so have damaged the first thing God ever entrusted me with...My own body. I have broken that trust. <br />
Shame on me.<br />
<br />
So, with forgiveness in hand, I embark upon this journey to regain what I lost, and lose what I so stupidly gained. <br />
<br />
On Tuesday, February 14, I logged on to the Weight Watcher's site and signed up. I decided that maybe this would be the thing that changed my world.<br />
<br />
But, I also know that in the end, the only thing that can change my world is me.deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-41284656032698120182012-02-16T17:56:00.004-06:002012-02-21T09:09:51.618-06:00who's the Boss?<em><strong>Ephisians 22</strong> Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. </em><br />
<em><span class="reftext"><b>23 </b></span>For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. </em><br />
<em><span class="reftext"><b>24 </b></span>Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything</em>.<br />
<br />
"I may be the head of the household, boys, but my wife is the neck!"<br />
<br />
My husband loves to throw that one-liner out during church functions. It hints at the fact that although women are supposed to be submissive, they are still a very integral part of a man's support system and decision making process. It takes an artful and graceful woman to walk that fine line between supporting and usurping. It takes a strong woman to stand back and say "It's your decision." It takes a discerning woman to gently guide that head back into the right direction. <br />
Yes, as women, we are definitely the neck. Without us, the head would have no ability to see from all angles. Thus, being the neck holds much responsibility.<br />
<br />
Submission has become somewhat of a dirty word with a negative connotation. We see a woman battered and abused by a controlling man. We see barefoot and pregnant, jumping up at the mere tinkling of an empty glass. We see a woman void of self-esteem and self-confidence, watching her life wither away and die. <br />
It couldn't be farther from the truth. <br />
Interestingly, in this passage, God commanded a woman to be submissive, but He did not command her to love her husband. He did, however, command the man to love his wife. In fact, the command was not just to love her, but love her enough to make sacrifices for her. To love her as Christ loved the church. <br />
<br />
That is a really tall order. <br />
<br />
So, we get a man (if we choose wisely) who will take responsibility for the decisions he makes, love us with a God kind of love, be willing to make sacrifices for us, cover us, protect us and even be willing to kill or die for us, and all we have to do is let him be the head of the family. <br />
<br />
Wow...<br />
<br />
Another saying my husband frequently throws out is:<br />
"She treats me like a dog! She makes sure I have plenty to eat, and that I have a cold drink on a hot day, let's me lay my head in her lap, loves on me and tells me what a good boy I am. At night, she lets me snuggle up against her and scratches me in all the right places. She doesn't even yell at me when I make a mess in the house."<br />
So ladies, don't get too worked up over that submission thing. When you really think about it, we get the better end of the deal. <br />
Anyway, where would a head be without a neck? The body would just be a no-neck monster...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-7951787535945889942012-02-11T10:55:00.000-06:002012-02-11T10:55:30.365-06:00Mr. Fix itMy husband considers himself an average Joe. He has a blue collar job and a high school education. <br />
<br />
But, in some ways, he one is of the most insightful philosophers I've ever met, showing me the difference between learned knowledge and God given <em>wisdom</em>.<br />
<br />
He's been known to say things like:<br />
<br />
"It's ok to bring baggage into a relationship, just don't live out of the suitcase."<br />
or<br />
"The most beautiful thing about a woman is her confidence."<br />
<br />
We recently had a conversation concerning men and women and how relationships go sour. He said, <br />
"Real men are fixers. That's what we do. As a rule, men deal with broken things on two levels. We either fix them, or dispose of them."<br />
<br />
So I translated that into real life by asking "So how does that apply to relationships?"<br />
He responded, "If I love you, and you are broken, then I will try to fix you. I will help you heal, care for you, hold you and be kind to you. But if you <em>like</em> being broken, and refuse help because that's your nature, then I'm disposing of you. We don't hold on to broken things very long. We will eventually toss them out.<br />
Here's the thing," he said. "If all I ever hear out of your mouth is negative statements and complaining, I will try and find out why you are unhappy. Just like <em>you</em> always say, I can do things that please you, but I can't make you happy. That's <em>your</em> job. So if a man is in a relationship where all he hears is how bad her life is, and she's always complaining about something, never a positive statement, he <em>will</em> leave. There's no point to the relationship."<br />
I took a moment to digest what initially appeared to be a harsh comment. Reading my mind as he often does he said, "That doesn't mean you can't have a bad day, or come to me to help you sort through an issue. That's part of my committment to you." He then said "You have never been broken. You have been in parts and pieces before, but you bring them to me and ask for help, and we work through it together. You've never desired to stay torn apart. Some women thrive on being broken, and they want to stay that way because it's all they know. Those women will never have a normal, healthy relationship.<br />
You cannot carry around everything that has ever happened to you, every hurt you've ever felt, every name you've been called, every rejection you've ever been subjected to. You have to lay it down, realize there's more to you than all the negative, and move forward."<br />
<br />
All of us, men and women alike, should take a long look at what we put into our relationship. Are we lifting our spouse up? Being encouraging and loving? Are we greeting each day with a positive attitude? Are we making that person who lives with us feel like they are a blessing in our lives? <br />
<br />
Not every situation is the same, and there are some terrible people out there who have no idea how to love others. I have met them and have seen the damage they cause. However, it doesn't hurt to take stock of your relationship. It might be the difference between life and death....deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-59655998165388632832012-01-18T09:52:00.000-06:002012-01-18T09:52:46.242-06:00Parenting skills<strong><em>Heb 12:6 "For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth"</em></strong><br />
<br />
One of the worst offenses of parenthood is opting to be a child's friend, instead of their parent. It's often easier in the "now" to avoid those hard lines, and hard decisions, by being understanding and sympathetic. It takes less thought and less energy to just say "whatever you want, sweetheart." in order to circumvent a child's wrath. Unfortunately, there are others in the world that couldn't give a rat's hind end what someone else's kid thinks, or feels, or wants. There are rules and regulations, and the rest of the world isn't going to make the concessions you do in order to keep Jr. happy and smiling.<br />
<br />
The hard part of parenting is setting boundaries and drawing lines. A mother who says "This ain't happening in my house" and gives the teenager a choice to either comply or leave, is actually setting the example of how the world really works. It doesn't mean that mother doesn't love her child enough to die for them. It just means that she won't compromise ethics and morals in order to avoid confrontation. Often times, this means a temporary severing of the relationship until said child is able to perform a much needed cranial-rectal separation. Again, the mother's (or father's) love is not in question. They are simply standing their ground.<br />
<br />
God does this too. When we are living in a blatantly disobedient state, He isn't going to move His boundaries to keep us inside His protective walls. He still loves us, and if we call Him and ask for help, He'll be there, but our relationship with Him is definitely affected by our behavior. When we do finally figure it out He'll be anxiously awaiting our return, just as an earthly parent would be. <br />
<br />
In order to be your child's friend, you must first be a parent. God is my friend. But He is my Dad, first and foremost, cause sometimes, a girl just needs her Daddy...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-85537352941183295062011-12-21T13:46:00.000-06:002011-12-21T13:46:02.551-06:00My Hero<div class="dndata"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Hero:</strong> <em><strong>a</strong></em></span><em><strong> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">man</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">distinguished</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">courage</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">ability,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">admired</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">for</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">his</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">brave</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">deeds</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">and</span> noble</strong></em></span><span id="hotword"><strong><span style="color: black;"><em> </em></span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #0055bb; cursor: pointer;"><span style="color: black;"><em>qualities</em></span>.</span> </strong></span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span><span style="color: black;">When my husband was 18 years old, he wanted to be a Marine. His father was a Marine, as was his grandfather and great-grandfather and so on and so forth. Unfortunately things didn't work out, so being a Marine was not in his future...</span></span></div><div class="dndata"><span>At one time he considered Law Enforcement until he realized you had to protect the guilty from the victim's daddy. </span></div><div class="dndata"><span>He did a brief stint on the VFD, but full time Fire Fighting didn't happen, either.</span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span>My husband has a great desire to be a hero. In his mind the above vocations offer a man that opportunity. As each year passes, and he gets another year older, I often see the what-ifs in his eyes. </span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span>It amazes me that he doesn't see the heroism I see.</span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span>He may not boast a military allegiance, but in the Army of the Lord, he is quite a soldier. He may never save someone from a burning building, but many will be rescued from the fires of hell. He may never take a bullet in the line of duty, but fiery darts of the wicked are aimed at him constantly for the ministry's sake. He has never ran from responsibility, and he has always had my back.</span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span>Sacrifices are made every day by ordinary men who get up, go to work, come home, and flee from temptation. They father children they did not sire, bolster the weak, protect the innocent, and guide the lost. They show those who are broken how they can be mended. They speak softly and still make an impression. They stand for what they believe to be true. </span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div><div class="dndata"><span>Every <strong>good</strong> man is a hero to someone. </span></div><div class="dndata"><span>Who's yours?</span></div><div class="dndata"><span></span> </div>deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-32938453377781558022011-12-16T09:03:00.000-06:002011-12-16T09:03:13.138-06:00Crīstesmæsse<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang"><em>Crīstesmæsse </em>is old English for Christmas, literally meaning, "A mass for Christ" Mass comes from the old Latin "missa" or dismissal, and has morphed into "mission" meaning you can now leave and be about your mission.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">So in essence, celebrating Christmas means you are (or should be) on a mission for Christ. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">I am a Christian. I celebrate, serve, love and honor, to the best of my human ability, Christ the Savior. I am not of the Jewish faith (though I did discover many of my ancestors were) so therefore I do not celebrate Hanukkah. Neither am I African-American, so Kwanza in not on my holiday list either. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">However, if someone wished me a Happy Hanukkah or Kwanza, I would simply smile, say "Thank you, you too!" and be on my way. I am not intimidated by other's beliefs, nor do I wish them any harm or oppression. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">But, I would not be so hypocritical as to take advantage of the above holidays, just because it behooved me. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">If one does not wish to celebrate Christmas, then one is not required to do so. There is no law on the books that says just because a bar advertises free drinks for women on ladies night that I have to go in and drink. Just because the strip club downtown says "Come in and meet nice girls" doesn't mean my husband is obliged to do so. If a store is having a 50% off sale it doesn't mean I must go in and buy twice as much as I normally would. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">Just because someone puts up a sign that says "Merry Christmas" and a school sings "Silent Night" or "Oh Hanukkah!Oh Hanukkah!" at a holiday program, doesn't mean one has to believe in Christ, Judaism, or go to the program. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">Freedom of religion means just that. You choose to participate, or not participate. Seeing something that offends you doesn't require your participation in it. It just means it's there. Just like bars, strip joints, mosques, temples or churches. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">My advice to everyone is, let it be. Stop trying to justify your beliefs by suppressing those of others, and stop thinking that everyone has an agenda to change your opinion. If you are rooted and grounded in your belief, you shouldn't feel the need to justify it by stifling others. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">Please, enjoy the season however you see fit, and allow me to do the same...just remember, if, on Dec 25th, you pass out gifts and get the day off with pay, you are taking advantage of the holiday set forth by Christians to honor Christ. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">Without Him, that particular day of giving and sharing would not be.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">Happy Whatever to you! Hope it's the best ever!</span>deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-40203359114930684552011-11-15T06:53:00.000-06:002011-11-15T06:53:48.064-06:00In God We Trust<em><strong>Matthew 11:28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest</strong></em><br />
<br />
I have a morning routine that seldom changes, even on my days off. Alarm-bathroom-dresser-closet-feed and water dogs-get Tom up.<br />
<br />
That's where things get really interesting. <br />
<br />
My wonderful, patient, giving, loving and compassionate husband is not a morning person. And by "morning", I mean any time before noon if it's his day off. In order for me to get us to work on time, my morning goes something like this...<br />
<br />
"Tom, honey, it's time to get up." I usually say this several times..<br />
At some point, one foot slides from under the covers and raises up. That's my cue to put on his socks, which I do most every morning. (He can't sleep with socks on) If I don't see the foot voluntarily arise from it's cocoon, I gently tap his foot and he responds by lifting it, much like my old horse, Jim, used to! <br />
<br />
"Tom, it's 6:15, honey, it's time to get up" (we leave at 6:30). This usually results in a repostioning of the body; a roll, a wiggle, or, if I'm really lucky, I get to see the whites of his eyes...<br />
<br />
"C'mon, Thomas!" My voice gets a little more stern at this point. "You are already late!" <br />
"Late" is the magic word. He hates to be late for work, mostly because he doesn't want to stay over and make it up.<br />
Once awake, he gets going pretty well, and can get ready fairly quickly. I believe he does this for one reason and one reason only.<br />
<br />
Once in the car, he goes back to sleep. He kicks back, pulls his hat down, and snoozes the entire 45 minute drive from Mitchell to Bloomington. <br />
<br />
Dog...<br />
<br />
This morning I looked over and caught a glimpse of him in the random headlights, and his peaceful slumber amused me, and inspired me. <br />
<br />
In this thing we call life, it is often difficult to rest. We fuss and worry, we hit our invisible brake, grab the dash and, as Tom so laughingly accuses me of when he drives, look ahead for miles just in case the road gets a little dangerous. We often forget God wants to be in the driver's seat! We should be able to lay back, rest and rejuvenate, so that we can be ready to take the wheel when the time is right. We can trust Him to gets us where we need to be, on time, in order to do the job He has assigned to us. <br />
It's all about having faith in the guy behind the wheel.<br />
<br />
When I pull into the parking lot, he begans to rouse. He gets out, stretches, groans and smiles at me. As he prepares to slide into the driver's seat he leans over, kisses me and says "Thank you, baby. That's the best sleep I get."<br />
<br />
When life gets crazy, and exhausting, and you just can't seem to find any peace, I suggest you just pull over, kick back in the passenger seat and say "Why don't you drive awhile." It'll be the best sleep you get.<br />
<br />
Rest easy my friends...God's got this...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962190296771752237.post-60432855209869307232011-11-03T19:00:00.000-05:002011-11-03T19:00:02.111-05:00securityMy sister calls me Suzy Homemaker. <br />
<br />
Sarcastically.<br />
<br />
I suppose if you wanted to eat off my floor you could, but I wouldn't advise it. Between 2 dogs and one husband who has hoarding issues, my house is full of movable items. Move this to sit down, move that to get into the spare room, move something else to get to the refrigerator, most recently a compound mitre saw.<br />
(In his defense, he was putting in a new floor...it just took a while!)<br />
<br />
There's lots of stuff here. Music equipment, boxes of toys, shelves of books, shoes on the floor, pillows on the couch, candy in the bowl and a random glass or two abandoned on various surfaces. <br />
<br />
But there's no place my kids and grandkids would rather be. This is home, clutter and all. There are very few sacred items, and even the guitars are up for grabs if you really want to give it a try. We also have a resuscitated Jazzy, with zero-turn radius capabilities, that makes a great joy ride on a hardwood floor. <br />
<br />
I recently commented to my oldest granddaughter, "I don't know why you want to come here all the time. It's a mess, and you have to sleep on that uncomfortable couch..." She just smiled and shrugged "Any house will do Nan, as long as you're in it." She is the same child that once said to me "I get good sleep here."<br />
<br />
I realized that was the perfect expression of love, trust and security. <br />
No worries...<br />
<br />
As children of the Almighty God, we should feel that exact same way. When our life gets cluttered, when our environment gets a little uncomfortable, we need only look into the face of our loving Lord and say "If you are with me, it's OK." Just because things aren't perfect, doesn't mean His love isn't. Just because pain comes, doesn't mean healing isn't on the way, and just because we don't see them, doesn't mean He doesn't shed tears for us. <br />
<br />
I hope my home is always a haven for my children, my grandchildren and all the others that I have adopted through the years. My couch may be cluttered, but my heart is always open and my refrigerator is always full. <br />
<br />
I am my Father's daughter...deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12740588223274905020noreply@blogger.com0